


Sleepy

by gonnaslapaboo



Series: Lucio/Evelyn [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 06:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13405419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonnaslapaboo/pseuds/gonnaslapaboo
Summary: Lucio can't sleep and Evelyn helps.





	Sleepy

**Author's Note:**

> You will pry soft, ptsd Lucio from my cold dead hands  
> find me at loafdog.tumblr.com

The insistent sound of metal knocking on wood wakes Evelyn from her deep slumber and it takes her a minute to remember where she is. Right, the palace. It hasn’t been long since she’s moved in after being awarded the title of Court Healer and she’s still not used to her new room, despite having already filled it with as many plants as she could possibly fit in it.

Another hurried knock against her door snaps her out of her thoughts. She puts on a silky robe and looks at the moon outside through the big, ornate window on the other side of the room. Something must have happened for someone to be visiting her so late into the night, she muses as she walks towards the door, bare feet hitting the cold tiles quietly.

“Who is it?” she demands before opening the door. Her mother had taught her to be wary of strange visitors and the palace was not an exception to her safety, although judging by the sound she could already guess who it was that was standing on the other side of the wooden door.

“It’s me, let me in” the familiar voice of the Count Is enough for her to open the door a crack, but not enough for her to let her guard down.

“Why should I?” she asks, eyeing him up and down suspiciously. He looks…well, there’s no other word to describe it other than _exhausted_. His hair, usually neatly pulled back, falls on his face messily, his sleeping clothes look like he’s been thrashing and his eyes… Her eyebrows knit together with worry.

“Please” he pleads, the word tasting strange on his tongue, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming. Evelyn takes the fact that he’s asking as a bad sign and opens the door completely, stepping aside to allow him in before shutting it behind him.

He’s barefoot too, she notices as he walks in and looks around, eyes flickering from plant to plant before chuckling.

“Is the greenhouse I had built for you not enough?” his questioning gaze sets on her form and he crosses his arms in front of his chest, acting offended.

“If you woke me up in the middle of the night to question my room’s décor I will end you, Lucio” she threatens, mirroring his posture. There is something else behind his act and she’s too sleepy to play along with his ego.

He runs a golden hand through his hair, messing it up further before answering. “Sorry dove, bad night.” He explains, shoulders dropping, too tired to pretend he’s not.

With a sigh, Evelyn goes to sit on the bed cross-legged and scoots back to lean on a tall pile of cushions, patting the spot in front of her on the bed for him to sit, her hopes of going back to sleep pushed away by a warm feeling blooming in her chest at the realization that he’s sought her out for comfort.  

“How bad?” She asks, her voice soft with concern. Lucio has complained about having trouble sleeping before but he usually does it during the day, loudly and dramatically. The fact that he felt bad enough to apparently rush to her room in the wee hours of the night seems quite telling but she wants to hear it from him.

He climbs onto the bed and crawls over to her, lying with his head on her lap and looking up at her, a dirty joke on the tip of his tongue but too weary to bring it to completion. She allows it and leans down to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, long wavy hair cascading down and framing them both when she does so.

“Well?” she presses after straightening her back, knowing it’s hard for Lucio to open up. He pouts and brings a hand up to fidget with the edge of her robe, aware that he needs to speak up in order for her to help but stubbornly prideful and unwilling to show weakness.

Evelyn threads her fingers through his hair and brings her free hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Lucio, dear, I am far too tired for these games and I’m sure you are too. Is it the arm again? You know I can deal with that in a-”

“It’s not the arm” he cuts her off, averting her gaze as he continues, “Well, it is, in a way. This goddamn arm is the source of all my troubles.” He frowns, glaring at the golden prosthetic as if to make it apologize for the suffering it’s brought him. The prosthetic, of course, stays silent.

“Well now that’s simply not true, that attitude of yours is also a big contributor” she teases him, a small smile dancing on her lips.

“Nah it’s the arm, I’m a delight” he’s quick to reply with a grin, comfortable in their usual banter.

“Well if you’re so sure, get rid of it then.” She snakes a hand under the collar of his shirt, fingers lightly tracing the line where flesh meets artificial limb, daring him to do it. He shudders at the feeling of her cold fingertips on his heated skin, aware she’s just messing with him.

“It’s...not the arm. I had a dream. I’ve...been having them lately” the blond finally admits reluctantly with a frown, mad at himself for letting something like a dream get him so worked up.

“A dream?” she gently encourages him to go on, glad he’s finally talking, his unwillingness to do so being worrisome considering how much chattering he usually did.

“Well, they’re not dreams, more like a memory. Repeating. It’s so vivid, like it’s happening again over and over…” His voice trails off, eyes unfocused as he remembers, and Evelyn doesn’t have to try too hard to guess which memory it is that’s haunting him. She leans down to press their lips together again, lingering longer this time.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offers after planting a kiss on his forehead and he quickly shakes his head no.

“It happens sometimes. Stress,” he tells her with a shrug, not wanting to think about it any longer. “Just...can you sing something for me?” his tired gaze meets hers and she can’t refuse him.

“Mhm. Come closer.” After removing her hand from under his shirt, Evelyn leans back against the cushions and waits for Lucio to settle next to her, pulling a soft blanket over the both of them as he rests his head on her chest and wraps an arm around her waist.

She closes her eyes and starts humming a wordless tune, fingers running through Lucio’s hair while he slowly relaxes against her warmth, the vibrations of her voice in her chest lulling him to sleep.

He must’ve been really distressed by those dreams, she contemplates, considering his unusual demeanor… She’s not too surprised though, amputation has never been a pleasant experience for anyone involved. _‘I’ve been having them lately’, ‘it happens sometimes’,_ Lucio’s words replay in her head and she can’t help but wonder for how long he’s had to deal with this on his own, her free arm curls around his shoulders protectively and she holds him close.

Evelyn is reminiscing about her days helping her mom with healing and that’s when she notices that the man in her arms is trembling very subtly, hiding his face in her chest as he tries to conceal a sniffle. She places a kiss on his hair, slipping some relaxing magic into her song as she continues to sing in hopes of making him feel better, the moment unusually intimate as the man in her arms is overtaken by the painful memories of a past he thought long abandoned.

She has never seen Lucio cry and she’s not seeing it this time either but she can feel his body shake against hers with every sob that racks his form, each shaky inhale breaking her heart a little more. Perhaps relaxing magic wasn’t the best choice for the situation seeing as it has broken the dam and now Lucio’s tears flow freely, taking all his stress and anxiety with them, gold hand curling into a fist and gripping her robe pitifully.

The knowledge that mentioning it will only hurt him more is the only thing keeping Evelyn from speaking, from telling him that it’s okay to seek help, to cry, to break down sometimes, that being in pain is not shameful. All she can do is hold him through it and hope it’s enough as they both drift to sleep.

 


End file.
